


bitter strawberries, scattered bruises

by tsukkination



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A Lot of Hickies, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Kageyama Tobio, Caring but also Confused so Cold by Default Kageyama Tobio, Choking, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Hickies, Jealousy, Kagehina Ending, Light Face Slapping, Love Bites, Love Triangles, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Miya Atsumu, Possessive Sex, Smut, Toxic Behavior, Toxic Miya Atsumu, explicit smut: chp 2 & 4, mild smut: chp 1 & 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28911150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukkination/pseuds/tsukkination
Summary: After being rejected by Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou is completely broken. When Miya Atsumu inserts himself into Hinata’s life, Hinata isn’t sure if Atsumu’s trying to fix him or break him even more.Quite frankly, Hinata isn’t sure that he cares either way. As long as Kageyama keeps looking at him and Atsumu, as long as Hinata can feel Kageyama’s jealous gaze, he’ll let Atsumu do whatever he wants.All Hinata ever wanted was to be wanted.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou & Nishinoya Yuu, Hinata Shouyou & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Mentioned Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 136





	1. bitter

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thanks so much for reading. a couple notes:  
> \- american university au  
> \- i have a poor understanding of how when/how to use japanese first/given names (also i guess they’d be speaking english here??? just don’t think too much about it tbh) so i kinda just use whatever feels right  
> \- READ THE TAGS READ THE TAGS READ THE TAGS READ THE TAGS. the first chapter starts with drunk dub-con sex and atsumu is very toxic in this fic. the relationship that unfolds between them is unhealthy and very dangerous
> 
> but uh yea thanks for reading again :) this is my first anime and my first fic in this fandom and im a sucker for saving characters from toxic relationships. call it self-insert idk

_“I like you, Kageyama!”_

_The words came out of Hinata’s mouth like sparks, leaving his lips trembling and his face hot._

_In hindsight, Hinata should have just mustered up the courage to look at Kageyama as he said these words. That way, Hinata would’ve been able to tell what Kageyama was thinking, and he wouldn’t have to hear what he had to say next._

_“… Of course you do. You like everyone.”_

_“No! I mean—that’s not what I mean.”_

_For the first time since Hinata met Kageyama four months ago, he found it difficult to speak to him._

_“I_ like _you. A lot.”_

 _Why did the silence read as shock? Sure, they bickered and fought constantly, but it was always out of endearment. Surely, Kageyama couldn’t have been_ that _clueless…_

 _“Every time you call me stupid for not properly taking care of myself, I get goosebumps. Every time you smack my shoulder for insulting you, my entire body feels like it’s on fire. I_ like _you, and not as a friend. Why’s that so hard for you to get?”_

_Hinata had spoken this all very quickly, but at the end of his small rant, he suddenly found himself unable to speak. Only then was he aware of his hammering heart crashing against his ribcage, his heartbeat pulsating in his ears._

_There must have been at least thirty seconds of silence. The entire time, Hinata still couldn’t bring himself to look at Kageyama._

_Finally, Kageyama spoke._

_“Is this why you told me to come to your room?”_

_At that point, Hinata knew._

_He just knew._

_Kageyama’s tone tugged on Hinata’s insides, souring his stomach and puncturing his lungs, leaving him unable to breathe. Hinata clenched his hands into fists, clutching the fabric of his crewneck in his palms._

_Kageyama could have just left it at that. Hinata probably would’ve preferred it if he had. With that response, Kageyama already said everything Hinata needed to hear._

_But of course, he kept going._

_“… I’m sorry, Hinata.”_

_Just like that, Hinata shattered._

* * *

_How did this happen?_

Hinata knew exactly how it all happened.

_How did this happen?_

Hinata asked himself this question again, but he wasn’t really sure why. He knew exactly why his face was being shoved into the sheets of a twin bed right now.

Again and again, the question circled through his fuzzy thoughts that were still tinged and blurred with strawberry vodka. When Hinata _should_ have been focusing on how exceptionally difficult it was to breathe with his face in the mattress, and how he _definitely_ drank too much at the party, he was just asking himself over and over again— _how did this happen?_

Despite his preoccupied thoughts, Hinata couldn’t keep the whines of pure pleasure from leaving his swollen lips. The way Atsumu was moving inside him so slowly, so methodically, so _deeply_ — _god,_ _he’s so big—_ Hinata couldn’t help but respond.

He just couldn’t help it. Not after what happened. He just couldn’t help it. All Hinata ever wanted was to be wanted. And being here, being fucked into a mattress with hickies and love bites scattering his neck and chest—wasn’t that the definition of being wanted?

“Fuck, you’re so good…”

Atsumu’s voice. His words dragged through the air like slick honey. Clearly, _he_ wanted Hinata.

But Hinata certainly didn’t _feel_ wanted. Not after what happened, not after being rejected just twelve hours prior.

Hinata’s thoughts belonged somewhere else. But with every shaking sigh that left Hinata, with every deep, smooth thrust of Atsumu’s cock that plunged Hinata further into bliss, Hinata thinks that just for tonight, and maybe even more nights after this, his body can belong to the sophomore behind him.

_He’s a good distraction._

Another whimper escaped Hinata’s throat when one of Atsumu’s hands, previously gripping tightly onto Hinata’s hips, pulled back to smack harshly against his backside, fingertips digging into his skin. Hinata turned to look back, only for Atsumu to immediately move his fingertips into Hinata’s hair, forcing the smaller’s face back into the sheets with the same hand he had used to hit him just seconds ago.

_He’s controlling._

_You like that, don’t you?_

_Just forget about it all. Focus on him._

_Just focus on him—_

Atsumu began moving faster inside of Hinata, his hips meeting Hinata’s backside in a steady rhythm. Occasionally, Atsumu would hit against his sweet spot, the very same spot that Hinata couldn’t ever quite figure out how to pleasure himself. And it’d send waves of ecstasy over him.

_It almost feels good._

Hinata’s thighs quivered, squeezing together as Atsumu continued to rhythmically pushed his cock deep inside Hinata. Each thrust burned in the most amazing way, stretching Hinata open so intensely that he hoped it’d burn away the memories, too.

When did Hinata meet Atsumu for the first time? Three, four weeks ago? At another party, just like tonight’s, but at a different frat house. Hinata had been a lot happier then, though, because he was with Kageyama—

 _No._ _Don’t think that name._ He _refused_ to think that name, not after what happened, Kageyama’s rejection—

With a hiss, Atsumu fully pulled out of Hinata, who whined himself at the loss—but before Hinata could complain, Atsumu grabbed him by the waist and flipped Hinata onto his back. The quick movement was disorienting, and Hinata lolled his head around in the pillows.

“Look at me, Shouyou. Look at me.”

Hinata didn’t mean to ignore Atsumu’s words; he was just too busy thinking about how all of this happened. Logically, and chronologically, he knew how. Nishinoya and Yamaguchi had dragged Hinata to a party in hopes of getting Hinata distracted. And then Atsumu showed up.

 _I never thought I’d catch you without that lanky boy on your ass,_ Atsumu had told him. _Mind if I steal you away for a little bit, cutie?_

Hinata remembered how badly it had burned—Atsumu’s mentioning of Kageyama, and the shots that ripped down Hinata’s throat three minutes later. Hinata usually liked drinks like seltzers, because they were light and sweet. But Atsumu promised that he’d like the strawberry shots.

 _I_ did _like them. Just not how they tasted._

_They made me feel good._

_They made me feel numb._

Hinata was always a lightweight. His limit was three—three beers, three seltzers, three shots. But Atsumu pushed him—no, _encouraged_ him to take more, just two more than usual. So when he was slurring his words and clinging on Atsumu’s arm for support, it should have been so easy to let go.

 _Let go._ That’s what Noya and Yamaguchi told Hinata to do. When they checked up on Hinata shortly before he left with Atsumu, they told him to _just let Atsumu take you back, all you have to do is talk to him, you need a distraction,_ and _isn’t he better-looking than Kageyama, anyways—?_

They told him to let go. As if letting go of the person he loved twelve _hours_ after getting rejected was possible in any way.

Hinata went with Atsumu anyways, obviously. Hinata knew that Noya and Yamaguchi only let him go because they trusted Atsumu, but that was also because Atsumu told them that he’d be taking Hinata back to Hinata’s dorm, where his roommate Kenma could look after him. But halfway to where Hinata lived was Atsumu’s own dorm building, and then he asked if Hinata wanted to “rest up a bit” in Atsumu’s room before heading back for the night.

Hinata was naïve, but not _that_ naïve.

He let Atsumu take him anyways, obviously. Partly because he did want to sit down, mostly because he wanted to feel someone’s touch. Maybe if he closed his eyes, it’d feel okay.

Five minutes later, Hinata was pressed up against the wall of Atsumu’s dorm, the taller’s hands slipping underneath Hinata’s crewneck to grasp his waist. It didn’t feel bad, but it didn’t feel okay, either.

Five minutes after that, Atsumu had taken Hinata to the bed, dragging the blankets onto the floor as he pushed him down into the pillows. He took his time undressing Hinata, his lips dragging over every bit of skin he revealed, leaving hickies and marks on his neck, collarbones, upper chest, inner thighs—everywhere, it seemed.

Twenty, maybe thirty minutes after that—Atsumu left a _lot_ of hickies—Hinata was being stretched open with nothing more than Atsumu’s spit. He was pretty sure that was when he started crying, writhing and jerking underneath the older boy.

But Atsumu had just smiled, swallowing Hinata’s whines in a kiss as he continued to thrust his two fingers inside of the younger, scissoring his fingers inside of him. _You’re so pretty when you cry_ , Atsumu had murmured against Hinata’s trembling lips.

Ten minutes after that. Atsumu left the bed for a few seconds to grab the lubrication in his desk drawer, and Hinata had wondered why Atsumu hadn’t used the lube earlier.

Hinata supposed it didn’t really matter why, because when Atsumu pushed his length into Hinata for the first time, every other thought was replaced by burning, aching, _splitting_ pain. Up until that point, Hinata had only used his own fingers on himself, and even though Atsumu was moving slowly, Hinata could only think about the pain for—what was it, ten minutes? Probably fifteen.

Fifteen minutes went by with only pain on Hinata’s mind. Hinata had puffed out a breath of relief when he finally could take the entire length of Atsumu’s cock without wincing, but he missed the pain the moment it went, for the pain had left the thought of Kageyama in its place.

And now, it was one in the morning, twelve hours after Kageyama Tobio rejected Hinata Shouyou, and Hinata already knew he won’t be able to let go for a very long time.

But honestly, the longer the night went and the clearer Hinata’s mind became, he knew that he really should. He needed to, Hinata _needed_ to let go of Kageyama’s words so he could focus entirely on Atsumu, so he could properly distract himself.

_Just let go._

Easily said, never done.

_Just for tonight._

That’s more likely.

_You’re going to have to completely let go eventually, anyways._

So, Hinata let go.

Just for that night, Hinata let go, which he knew wouldn’t be possible without drunken thoughts and another boy to take his body and mind far, far away from the thought of Kageyama Tobio.

Hinata finally opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Atsumu’s. An easy, sultry grin spread over the taller’s lips, greeting Hinata.

“There he is,” Atsumu hummed. Then, he leaned down, connecting their lips together yet again. His kiss was laced with the lingering taste of bitter, artificial strawberries.

The rest of the night fuzzed together, and Hinata wasn’t really aware of most of it. How many positions did Atsumu end up twisting him into? Hinata couldn’t remember. All he knew was that at the end of it all, he was clutched against the chest of a boy who Hinata had no intentions of belonging to.

Hinata never had high expectations for his first time—he figured it’d be awkward, and he definitely didn’t expect to cum with how drunk he was. But he always thought it’d be with someone he loved, or at least liked.

And Atsumu was fine. He went slowly, and even when he didn’t, Hinata was too out of it to want to protest. But he didn’t _feel_ anything when he looked into Atsumu’s eyes; he didn’t feel a sliver of the explosive and unbearable emotions that’d overwhelm him when Kageyama looked at him. Shouldn’t he _feel_ something with the person he’s having sex with?

Hinata tried not to think too deeply, instead allowing himself to fall into the exhaustion that was crashing down on him. He let himself slip into unconsciousness, drifting away into a world where none of this ever happened—a world where he didn’t have to think about strawberry vodka, Kageyama Tobio, and the boy that wasn’t him holding Hinata.

If only he could stay in this world forever. That way, Hinata wouldn’t have to come face-to-face with the fact that he knew, every step along the way, exactly how this all happened.

* * *

“Let me talk to him.”

“He’s sleeping, Tadashi—”

“Let me talk to him! He was so messed up when you guys left, I almost had a heart attack when Kenma told me he wasn’t in their room. Now let me _talk_ to him—”

“Just wait until he wakes up, okay?”

Hinata’s eyes blinked open, slowly taking in his unfamiliar surroundings—Atsumu’s room seemed so different in the daylight. Completely disoriented and mildly hungover, Hinata was tempted to roll over in the bed and bury himself deeper into the covers. But then Hinata heard and fully processed Yamaguchi’s voice.

“I-if you don’t get out of the way and let me talk to him, I’ll call Noya on the spot.”

Hinata pushed himself up slowly, seeing that Atsumu was standing at the door. Dressed in only a tank top and shorts, Atsumu was holding the door open by only a few inches. But Hinata could still clearly hear Yamaguchi’s voice.

“Tadashi, do you really think I’d do anything like that to him? He’s completely fine—”

“I’ll call him right now! I’ll call Noya, and then he’ll tell Tanaka, and then they’ll both come over and everyone will know that you _lied_ and took him to _your_ place when he was _drunk_ off his ass—"

“Yams?”

At the sound of Hinata’s voice, Atsumu turned around. Yamaguchi kept speaking, probably because he didn’t hear Hinata.

“You’re awake,” said Atsumu, his frustrated expression immediately replaced with a smile, “Sorry, cutie, were we too loud?”

“Is that Yamaguchi—”

The door forced open as Yamaguchi took advantage of Atsumu’s turned back, nearly falling into the room with how intensely he shoved open the door.

“Hinata!” said Yamaguchi frantically, his eyes wide and panicked, “I’m so sorry—are you—me and Noya should have taken you—are you—I thought you were— _are you okay?!_ What happened? What’d he do—”

“I told you, dude, he’s fine,” said Atsumu, still looking at Hinata sweetly.

Was he fine, though? Hinata wasn’t sure. It felt good in the end, though, and Hinata _did_ agree to go back to Atsumu’s room in the first place. Atsumu was smiling at Hinata so nicely, not all worried, or scared… Which must have meant that everything that happened last night was okay. If it was bad, Atsumu would’ve been nervous right now.

So, Hinata decided that he was in fact, fine.

“Yams, I’m okay,” promised Hinata quickly, for Yamaguchi looked like he was about to physically injure Atsumu for speaking on Hinata’s behalf, “I… I just got tired. My dorm building’s all the way on the other side of campus, so…”

Hinata trailed off, and Yamaguchi didn’t seem at all convinced. Probably because Hinata was soft-spoken for perhaps the first time in his life, but Hinata couldn’t help it—his head hurt, his body ached, everything was just so _painful,_ and he’d really rather go back to bed right now.

“Where are your clothes?” asked Yamaguchi, crossing his arms over his chest worriedly, “That’s not yours, is it?”

“Huh?”

Hinata looked down. He hadn’t noticed, but he was wearing the same turtleneck that Atsumu was wearing last night at the party.

“Oh,” said Hinata, surprised. _When did I put this on?_ “Uh, no, I don’t think so?”

“It’s mine,” put in Atsumu, “I put it on you before answering the door.”

 _Oh, right._ The hickies. Hinata was so drunk while Atsumu was leaving them that he wasn’t entirely sure, but Hinata could have sworn that he had left more than a dozen marks across his entire body. But with the turtleneck, Atsumu covered them all up.

“Are you feeling okay?” Atsumu’s question made Hinata snap out of his thoughts. “Are you hungover at all?”

“Um… Kinda, I think? My head hurts.”

“I can get you some—”

“Why isn’t Osamu here?” asked Yamaguchi, cutting off Atsumu and looking around the room. “He’s your roommate. Why wasn’t he here last night?”

“He spent the night in a friend’s room—"

“Because you kicked him out to have the room to yourself?” accused Yamaguchi, interrupting Atsumu once again.

Atsumu took in a deep sigh. And at that moment, for some reason, Hinata just got scared. Atsumu was getting frustrated, and Hinata knew he definitely didn’t want to see Atsumu angry like that.

“Yams,” said Hinata. He fully sat up in bed, sitting crisscross and pulling the covers up to cover his bare legs. “I’m fine, okay? I promise. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re acting so weird! You’re never this quiet,” protested Yamaguchi.

“Well, he _is_ hungover,” said Atsumu, “Do you really expect him to be jumping off the walls?”

Yamaguchi glared at Atsumu, Atsumu glared back, and Hinata knew that he had to break this up, fast.

“Tadashi,” said Hinata firmly. Yamaguchi looked at Hinata, his glowering immediately melting into an expression of concern.

“Let’s go have breakfast, okay? I’ll explain everything.”

It had taken Hinata a couple more minutes of reassurances, but he finally got Yamaguchi to leave Atsumu’s room without too much fuss.

 _You’re not eating with us,_ Yamaguchi had said pointedly to Atsumu. _If there’s something Hinata needs to tell me, he won’t say it if you’re there._ Atsumu had easily agreed, of course, but as Hinata and Yamaguchi left, Hinata felt his phone vibrate in his pocket—almost definitely a text from Atsumu.

 _I’ll check it later,_ decided Hinata. He was tempted to turn back to look at Atsumu as they walked down the hall, but he resisted the urge. He could feel Atsumu’s gaze glued to his back. _I’ll check it after breakfast._

Turned out it was too late for breakfast—Hinata found that out ten minutes later as he and Yamaguchi walked into the dining hall at 11:30 a.m. to see lunch items already being served.

Despite having chosen a secluded area towards the back of the dining hall, Hinata still spoke in a low tone as he repeated all of last night’s events to Yamaguchi. As Hinata’s recount came to an end, Yamaguchi just sighed. He seemed no less concerned than he had when he first barged into Atsumu’s room, clutching his mug of tea with both hands and bringing it to his lips with a deep sigh.

“It still shouldn’t have happened,” Yamaguchi murmured into his tea. “You were too drunk to be hooking up with someone for the first time.”

“I’m okay.” Hinata mustered up a smile, the action feeling strangely foreign. He wondered how long it’d take for him to feel like normal again. “You really don’t have to feel guilty.”

“But I _do_ ,” Yamaguchi insisted, setting down his tea with a _clunk_ , “When I was running to Atsumu’s room, I was so panicked that I called Tsukishima. You know what he said to me? _‘I thought you said he was drunk. Why wouldn’t you take him back yourself?’”_

With a loud groan, Yamaguchi fell forward and smacked his head onto the table.

“Hey!” yelped Hinata, frantically looking side to side—the people occupying the tables near them were all staring. “Get up! Are you trying to give yourself a concussion?! I told you, I’m completely fine!”

“Tsukki was _right!”_ Yamaguchi lamented, “I feel _so_ stupid! So what if I trusted Atsumu? Ugh, I should have known better!”

Yamaguchi lifted his head, presumably to smack it back down again, so Hinata quickly slid his hand underneath his forehead. Yamaguchi’s head fell with a _thud_ onto Hinata’s hand.

“I’m fine!” repeated Hinata for what felt like the thousandth time, a genuine smile finally spreading over his face. “I swear, okay? Jeez, you’re gonna lose all your brain cells at that rate.”

“I clearly don’t have that many to begin with,” Yamaguchi sighed, resting his chin on the table and peering up at Hinata. Yamaguchi still didn’t seem convinced, but he did seem a bit comforted by Hinata’s smile.

“You’re still wearing Atsumu’s shirt,” commented Tadashi suddenly as he sat up, eyes landing on the black turtleneck underneath Hinata’s crewneck.

“Oh, yeah, uh… About that.”

Before coming to the dining hall, Hinata had to get dressed. Yamaguchi had hesitantly agreed to stand and wait outside of Atsumu’s room for Hinata, but only if Atsumu waited outside with him. So Hinata got dressed alone in the dorm, pulling off Atsumu’s turtleneck and searching through the covers for his own clothes. 

When Hinata caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, he had let out an audible gasp. Yes, he knew that Atsumu had spent quite a while leaving marks on him, but…

There were just so _many._

How many did Hinata end up counting? Five, ten, fifteen, twenty—Hinata first counted them in groups of five. There had been twenty-three marks alone on his neck, collarbones, and upper chest. Five on his inner thighs. When Hinata turned around, he found three on his backside and four more on his shoulder blades.

Hinata didn’t do the math at the time, but there must have been more than thirty marks on his body.

The realization sent chills down Hinata’s body, causing him to clutch the spoon in his hand tightly—sure, it was shocking at first, but he kind of liked how they looked… It was like he was marked as someone else’s. Like he belonged to someone.

_If only they were from someone else, instead._

Even imagining such a thing twisted his stomach with pain. Hinata pushed the idea of Kageyama far and away, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“He uh…” mumbled Hinata through his fruit loops, “He left some hickies. It’s no big deal—”

“He _what,”_ deadpanned Yamaguchi, “That bastard! That’s why he put that shirt on you when I came in, right? So I wouldn’t see? What, did he think I’d never find out?”

“Yams, I _was_ naked.”

“Still! There’s a reason he put _his_ turtleneck on you instead of _your own_ turtleneck-less sweater! It was to hide something from me!”

Yes, Hinata had figured that out earlier that morning. But Hinata couldn’t say that he wasn’t grateful that Atsumu was okay with Hinata wearing his shirt—in fact, Atsumu actually seemed to really like it when Hinata stepped out of his room with Atsumu’s turtleneck underneath his crewneck.

More importantly, though, was that Hinata and Yamaguchi ran across a lot of familiar faces that day in the dining hall. And Hinata _definitely_ didn’t want to imagine how Sugawara or Bokuto would’ve reacted to all of those marks.

“It’s really okay,” Hinata repeated once again. The more he reassured Yamaguchi, the more reassured Hinata felt himself. “Can we please just drop this for a little bit? I kinda want everything to settle first. I’ve barely processed everything that happened myself, you know.”

Yamaguchi gave Hinata an exasperated look, but Hinata looked at him right back with pleading eyes. So Yamaguchi just sighed, bringing his mug back to his lips and muttering Atsumu’s name (along with some curses he didn't often hear from Yamaguchi) underneath his breath.

As they finished up breakfast, they spoke of other topics, such as classes and upcoming assignments due Monday. For most of the breakfast, Hinata thought that Yamaguchi had been purposefully avoiding the topic of Kageyama. But, of course, the conversation turned to the raven-haired boy as Yamaguchi was finishing off his second mug of tea.

“How are you feeling, though?” Yamaguchi paused here for a second. “About Kageyama, I mean.”

Hinata stared hard down at his cereal bowl, watching a couple soggy loops float in the pink milk. Just hearing his name felt like needles stabbing into his heart.

“… That bad, huh?” Yamaguchi said when Hinata didn’t reply, “I’m really going to kill him. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to get you this way.”

“Am I not allowed to be bummed out every once in a while?” Hinata sighed, poking at the fruit loops with his spoon. “I got rejected, hard. He’s the first person I’ve ever liked this much.”

“I know,” Yamaguchi said with a sigh, “I don’t know how I’m going to talk to Kageyama from now on. And I have two classes with him! You’re lucky you only have the one with him.”

Then, Yamaguchi picked up his phone off of the table, as the screen had just lit up. His face went blank for a second, and Yamaguchi’s gaze flicked to Hinata.

“Noya just woke up and read my texts. He’s going to Atsumu’s room.”

“Oh _no,”_ Hinata groaned, leaning his elbows onto the table and burying his face into his hands, “Are you serious? I’m hungover and now I have to go convince Nishinoya not to commit battery?”

“He’s way better friends with Atsumu than I am, too,” Yamaguchi said darkly, “So he’s _extra_ pissed. I’m scared shitless of Atsumu since he’s like, eight feet tall, but Noya isn’t scared of anything. He’s going to _kill_ him.”

“Can you _please_ go get him?” begged Hinata, peeking at Yamaguchi through his fingers, “Tell him to come to my room. I guess I’ll just explain everything to him and Kenma then.”

Yamaguchi nodded, as if preparing for war. “If that’ll make you feel better, yeah, of course.”

Hinata smiled, another genuine one.

“Thanks, Yams.”

They deposited their dirty dishes off at the dish racks and parted ways at the dining hall entrance—Hinata wanted to head to the restroom first. Not because he had to use it, but because no one really used the dining hall bathrooms and Hinata wanted a private place to read Atsumu’s texts.

So Yamaguchi took off running towards Atsumu’s dorm building, and Hinata headed to the boys’ bathroom. He took his phone out of his pocket, finally reading the texts that Atsumu had sent him nearly an hour ago.

> **_Today | Saturday, Jan. 12_ **
> 
> **_Direct Chat with: A.Miya_ **
> 
> **A.Miya | 11:21**
> 
> Wanna talk later?
> 
> We can go grab something to eat too :P
> 
> You like Italian food, right? I know this place that’s like a ten minute uber away

_He remembers that I like Italian food._ Hinata had no idea at what point of their drunken conversation the night previous that they had arrived at the topic of Italian food, but the fact that Atsumu even remembered that detail made Hinata think that Atsumu wasn’t nearly as shifty as Yamaguchi was making him out to be.

 _People who don’t care about you don’t remember details like that,_ reasoned Hinata. So, Hinata decided that he would in fact get Italian food with Atsumu.

Beginning to type his response, Hinata pushed open the bathroom door with his shoulder. Running water indicated to Hinata that the bathroom was occupied, so Hinata looked up.

And Hinata immediately froze, the bathroom door swinging shut behind him.

Of course.

Of _course_ it had to be him. Hinata craved nothing more than to pass away at that very moment.

_Out of all the people I had to run into—_

_Why him?!_

Washing his hands at the sinks was no other than Kageyama _freaking_ Tobio. He was dressed in a blue hoodie and black sweats, his hair disheveled from clearly just having woken up, but he still looked so good. He looked perfect, just as perfect as he always did. Hinata kinda hated him for it.

Even after everything that happened, Kageyama still looked so perfect to Hinata.

_Why him?_

_Why did I have to fall for him?_

Kageyama continued washing his hands for two _painfully_ long seconds before glancing up at the bathroom entrance, doubling back when he saw who it was standing there.

“Hinata.”

_That hurt._

_How can my own name hurt that much? Just because it’s coming out of his mouth?_

Hinata bit down on his lip hard, wanting to look away but unable to. Kageyama’s eyes had widened ever so slightly, his hands frozen in the sink.

Kageyama then cleared his throat, adding—

“Uh. Hi.”

And with those horribly awkward words, Hinata turned right on his heel and pushed the bathroom door back open.

 _Nope. Nope. Nope._ Sure, there was nothing more Hinata wanted than to be with and around Kageyama for the rest of all time, but there was no way Hinata was mentally prepared for a conversation that began like _that_.

“Hinata, wait,” Kageyama said quickly. And Hinata stopped, because of course he did. How couldn’t he? Sure, Kageyama had broken him almost twenty-four hours ago, but it wasn’t like Hinata wasn’t still hopelessly in love with him.

“What?” sighed Hinata as he turned around, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, “What is it?”

Kageyama didn’t meet Hinata’s eyes. He was focusing perhaps too intensely on drying his hands with a paper towel, tossing it into the trash can before immediately shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.

“I don’t know. I just feel like I should say something.”

“Are—are you serious?” Hinata said exasperatedly. Clearly, this much hadn’t changed at all—Kageyama was just _so good_ at getting Hinata worked up within seconds.

“What’s the matter with you? I spill my heart out to you, which you _stomp_ on, and that’s what you say?!”

“What else am I supposed to say?” Kageyama shot back, immediately defensive, “How do you think I feel?!”

At Kageyama's response, Hinata wanted to scream. Already, they were yelling at each other. Of course they were.

 _“What?”_ Hinata shouted, uncrossing his arms and striding towards Kageyama in a rage. The taller boy took a step back, but had his brow furrowed. _What’s he so angry for? Why is he_ always _angry?_

“Why are you making this about you? You told me you were sorry, watched me cry, and then _left my room!”_

“How else was I supposed to react?” Kageyama snapped, tossing his hands up and running one through his hair, “What, you don’t think I feel like an asshole for hurting you? I felt like I lost my best friend, so I left! I realized after that I fucked up but what was I supposed to do then?! _Text you?!_ That would’ve been worse!”

Hinata paused, admittedly unsure how to respond to this. Because Hinata hadn’t really considered that he had more or less lost Kageyama as a friend. He had gotten used to seeing Kageyama as a romantic pursuit for so long that he kind of forgot that, more than anything, he lost a _friend_ last night. Not a potential lover.

“I’m sorry, okay?” continued Kageyama when Hinata didn’t respond, “And you know I don’t say that shit just to make you feel better. I don’t know what else to say but I’m sorry. I mean it.”

“Well, that’s not good enough!” Hinata replied, indignant, “What do you mean, you lost your best friend? I’m right here, aren’t I? You could’ve at least stayed and promised you still want to be friends!”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be friends anymore!”

“I—”

Hinata choked on his words, Kageyama’s response hitting him so intensely that he physically winced. Kageyama looked guilty, but he wasn’t saying anything else.

“You… Don’t want to be friends anymore?” said Hinata weakly, his voice wavering. His throat felt tight and raw.

“No. I mean—no, as in that’s not what I meant,” Kageyama said, looking to the side, “I mean… I don’t know. I don’t know, okay?”

“No, it’s _not_ okay!”

“What do you want me to say, Hinata—”

Suddenly, Kageyama stopped speaking. His gaze that had been on the ground glanced back up to Hinata’s face, but his eyes got distracted on the way there.

“What’s that?” asked Kageyama.

“What’s what?” Hinata replied tiredly, “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about—”

Hinata too stopped mid-sentence, as he turned to glance in the mirror at that very moment. Somehow, Atsumu’s turtleneck had slipped down, revealing one of Atsumu’s many hickies on the right side of his neck.

Immediately, Hinata yanked the turtleneck back up, his face flushing with heat. He had never felt so humiliated.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” muttered Hinata. Kageyama figuring out that Hinata had immediately searched for physical validation after a rejection? It made Hinata’s chest tighten in pure embarrassment. All he wanted to do was divert the conversation away.

“… You really couldn’t have just—” Hinata attempted, only for Kageyama to interrupt him.

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

Surprised, Hinata looked up.

Kageyama’s face was normally hard to read, and this time was no exception—his expression was set, smooth, indistinct. But Hinata could’ve sworn that there was a bite to his words.

“What was that?” Kageyama repeated. No, Hinata wasn’t imagining it—no, there definitely _was_ some anger in his voice, but it was different from his normal anger… No, it sounded more like frustration. Confusion, even.

It sounded like Kageyama didn’t like those marks, at all.

And the idea of Kageyama not liking Hinata’s hickies immediately dropped Hinata into exhilaration.

Was that terrible? Probably. Definitely. But maybe Kageyama deserved it. Maybe Kageyama deserved whatever he was feeling right now. Maybe Kageyama deserved to feel angry that Hinata was keeping something from him.

So Hinata just kept staring at Kageyama, waiting for the taller to say something else. God, Hinata wanted to hear it _so bad._ He just wanted Kageyama to lecture him, to say something, _anything,_ to be _angry_ at him. He wanted nothing more than for Kageyama to realize that with his rejection, Hinata would never be his.

He wanted Kageyama to hurt just as much as Hinata was hurting right now.

 _Okay, that_ is _pretty terrible._ But it was true.

Kageyama didn’t say anything else. He just kept staring at Hinata, looking like he was putting together thoughts and connecting dots.

Just as Kageyama opened his mouth to speak—Hinata’s insides lurched—the bathroom door creaked open behind them.

Hinata turned, but he found out who was at the door before he saw who it was.

“Soy Sauce and Blueberry!” Bokuto’s voice echoed against the bathroom walls, the junior student propping his hands on his hips as he grinned at Hinata and Kageyama. “Are you guys having a show-down or something? Why the heavy faces, dudes?”

“Uh, hi—” started Kageyama, but Hinata didn’t want to stick around.

“Bye,” Hinata said quickly, speed-walking past Bokuto and out of the bathroom. He needed to get back to his own room anyway. Kenma, Noya, and Yamaguchi were probably all waiting for him.

“What’s with that guy?” Bokuto asked loudly after Hinata as the bathroom door shut once again behind Hinata. But Hinata didn’t look back, because he couldn’t—he was concentrating, trying to write Kageyama’s face and words into his memories so he could analyze them later.

 _Kageyama sounded angry,_ Hinata thought to himself as he sped out of the dining hall. Sure, he always did, but he sounded… _different._ Like he was taken off-guard. That had to mean something, right?

 _Right?_ Hinata wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about most things anymore. But if Hinata had read Kageyama correctly, that Kageyama _had_ realized the marks on Hinata’s necks were hickies, and he _was_ upset about it, then…

Hinata liked that. He definitely, _absolutely_ liked the idea of that.

Yeah, that was pretty terrible of Hinata to think, too—liking jealousy? There wasn’t a more definite equation for toxicity. Nothing good came from welcoming bad traits. Hinata knew this on a surface-level, of course, but it didn’t change how _good_ it felt to think that Kageyama could actually be jealous.

The same exhilaration from before filled Hinata so quickly that he dug his phone out of his pocket again to respond to Atsumu. Hinata wasn’t too worried about responding before, but Kageyama’s tone ringing in his mind was more than enough motivation for Hinata to keep pushing the situation forward.

So, he quickly responded to Yamaguchi, Noya, and Kenma’s texts all asking where he was and went back to Atsumu’s conversation.

> **_Today | Saturday, Jan. 12_ **
> 
> **_Direct Chat with: A.Miya_ **
> 
> **A.Miya | 11:21 AM**
> 
> Wanna talk later?
> 
> We can go grab something to eat too :P
> 
> You like Italian food, right? I know this place that’s like a ten minute uber away
> 
> **hinataaaa | 12:32 PM**
> 
> hi sorry i was eating
> 
> but yeah that sounds good
> 
> :)

Hinata had added on the smiley-face on in case his tone had come off as too neutral. Five minutes later, Hinata was swiping into his dorm building when he felt his phone buzz again.

> **A.Miya | 12:37 PM**
> 
> Perfect.
> 
> How’s 7 sound?
> 
> I’ll come pick you up at your room

Hinata typed and sent his confirmation as he pushed the button to the elevator. As he stepped inside, he kept reading over their texts. Already, Atsumu had begun texting again. It made Hinata slightly anxious, but it didn’t make Hinata’s stomach lurch like it would with Kageyama.

 _It’s just dinner._ Hinata knew it’d turn into more than just a dinner.

 _I don’t have to do anything._ Hinata knew he was going to do something.

Because Hinata was hurting, more than he had ever hurt in his entire life. And if Kageyama was just going to walk straight out of his room, leaving Hinata to collapse onto the floor, then Hinata had the right to do some not-super-great things.

Maybe Hinata was bitter. So what if it was? Was he supposed to feel any other way? Wouldn't it be fair for Kageyama to feel a portion of what he had inflicted onto Hinata?

Still, Hinata tried to not feel guilty as he made his way down the fourth-floor hallway to his and Kenma’s room. He didn’t _like_ being like this. He didn’t _like_ hurting, and he didn’t like knowing that he was filled with such pettiness and toxicity. But Hinata just couldn’t help it.

 _They’re gonna kill me._ Hinata jiggled the doorknob to his own room, figuring there wasn’t any need to unlock it himself if there were three people already inside. He wasn’t looking forward to having to repeat last night’s events all over again, especially when his mind was so preoccupied with all that had happened in the bathroom. Hinata couldn’t help it.

After hearing Kageyama’s tone of surprise at his hickies, and hearing how immediately angry he got… Hinata liked it. He just plain couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t Hinata’s fault that he liked being wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even in an au, hinata cannot escape the dreaded bathroom encounters


	2. bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! thank you so so much for all the support so far!!! seeing so many kudos on a first chapter literally made me cry. me so happy feels :’) love y’all <3
> 
> sorry this update took so long y’all, school hit me with a brick but i hope this long-ass chapter makes up for my long absence! i also had to write an actual full chapter around the 2.7k words of FILTHY SMUT i already had written so uhhh hope y’all enjoy when y’all get to it lolol
> 
> also: i somehow forgot that freshmen and sophomores do not normally dorm with each other (making the kenma/hinata roommate pair unlikely) but i DID have a soph friend who roomed with a freshman in my second sem of soph year bc of some weird work-around so uhhh pretend it’s the same here hehe

_Atsumu had_ just _slipped a third finger inside of Hinata when he asked._

_“Tell me. You ever thought about fucking Kageyama?”_

_The question hit Hinata like a series of bullets striking him from his heart to his gut._

_Desperately, Hinata prayed that his loud whine from the intrusion of Atsumu’s third digit was enough to conceal his true reaction, feigning intense pleasure by burying his face into Atsumu’s shoulder. It didn’t work._

_“You have.” Atsumu spoke flatly, without doubt. “No use in lying. I could tell by your face.”_

_Every time Hinata jerked and winced, Atsumu would just go faster, push deeper. Was Atsumu this intense the previous night, too? Maybe Hinata was too drunk to notice. Or maybe what Hinata had said at dinner had upset Atsumu more than the taller boy let on. Perhaps that’s what prompted this question, so seemingly out of nowhere._

_Suddenly, Atsumu’s grip on his waist tightened, fingernails sharply jutting into the skin of Hinata’s waist and forcing a yelp out of him._

_“Look at me and answer.”_

_“I-I haven’t,” Hinata lied quickly, weakly picking his head off of Atsumu’s shoulder to look at him. “Y-you just took me off-guard… He’s my… My friend, so…”_

_“Hah. You’re a terrible liar, Shouyou.”_

His eyes. _Just then, Atsumu’s eyes looked how they did earlier that evening at the Italian restaurant when Hinata had said he wasn’t ready for a relationship, or anything serious._

_When Hinata had said those words, Atsumu’s face just froze. Within seconds, though, his face had smoothed back over into his signature, carefree smile._

We’ll just see what happens, _Atsumu had said reassuringly._ There’s no pressure.

 _But Hinata did ending up feeling_ some _pressure, because the Italian place turned out to be pretty good, and pretty expensive, too. So when Atsumu paid for everything and then asked if Hinata wanted to “watch a movie” in his room, well, Hinata just felt too bad to say no._

_They hadn’t even made it ten minutes into the movie before Atsumu’s fingertips began slipping underneath the waistband of Hinata’s corduroys. Five minutes later, all clothes were off, and Atsumu was sitting against his headboard with Hinata straddling his lap, sucking hickies into his skin and prying him open._

_Four. Four new hickies. Hinata was sober this time, so he could properly count them. His throat was so riddled with fresh bites from the night before that Hinata had no idea where Atsumu even found the space to leave them._

_“So what if he’s your friend?” Atsumu continued, “I bet you’ve thought about it with even your closest friends. Your twink roommate, even.”_

What? _Hinata had no idea how he reached this conclusion. But at least it seemed that Atsumu wasn’t particularly aware of Hinata’s feelings towards Kageyama. No, he just seemed to have a general dislike of_ all _boys around Hinata. That meant Atsumu wanted him, right?_

_“Don’t worry, Shouyou,” murmured Atsumu. His gaze was currently eying Hinata’s chest, and Hinata had a feeling he was scanning for available spaces to mark._

_“I’ll make sure you won’t be able to even think of anyone who isn’t me.”_

_Hinata just let his face fall back into Atsumu’s shoulder, choosing to get lost in the burning sensation around his fingers. If Atsumu was good at reading Hinata’s eyes, then he’d rather not let on that he was fully, completely, and_ constantly _only thinking about Kageyama Tobio._

* * *

Fifty-three.

That was certainly a new record.

Hinata started counting them for a second time, just to make sure. He was still in the forties a couple days prior.

Alone and bare naked, Hinata stood in front of the full-length mirror hooked onto the door of his dorm room and counted all of his hickies.

_Fifty-one, Fifty-two, Fifty-three. Fifty-four?_

Hinata furrowed his brow as his index finger landed on the final hickey on his left shoulder blade.

 _Maybe I miscounted._ Hinata started counting for a third time, beginning from the darkest mark on the right side of his neck—Hinata counted it as the first because it was the one that Atsumu liked replacing the most.

Two weeks had passed since Kageyama rejected Hinata, since Hinata started hooking up with Atsumu. And frankly, Hinata wasn’t sure if much had changed at all.

Okay, so the number of hickies totally changed. That component was definitely on a steady incline. But everything else?

 _Big fat nothing,_ Hinata thought with a small sigh as he counted number fourteen right in the middle of his collarbones.

 _Everything else_ meaning Kageyama, of course. After their bathroom encounter, the pair hadn’t really spoken. They heavily avoided even looking at each other in their only mutual class, Linguistics 110, where Kageyama no longer sat with Hinata and Nishinoya. He would sit rows behind them instead, in the back of the classroom.

Sometimes, Hinata swore he felt a set of eyes intensely studying the back of his head, and the scarf that Hinata now wore almost every day. But whenever Hinata spared the occasional glance back, Kageyama would conveniently be paying close attention to their professor, typing fast notes on his laptop.

And Hinata was always _so_ tempted to let his scarf “slip,” to whisper something to Nishinoya about Atsumu just a _bit_ too loudly. Because Hinata desperately wanted to get a reaction out of Kageyama, to receive even a _sliver_ of evidence that Kageyama cared. Over and over again, Hinata would replay the bathroom run-in with Kageyama in his head, agonizingly analyzing his face and stripping every possible meaning from his words. Hinata _needed_ more evidence to decipher, more facial expressions to study.

 _Twenty-seven._ Hinata pointed at a hickey among the trail of marks leading down from his chest to his inner thighs. God forbid he ever lift his arms and expose his midriff in public.

Things with Atsumu hadn’t exactly changed, either. He and Hinata had been continuing to hook up for the past two weeks—almost every other night, in fact. They didn’t go all the way each time, but Hinata always came away with more hickies.

 _Thirty-nine._ Hinata counted the next hickey on the right side of his lower back, where four were clustered together—the very same grouping that Kenma had caught sight of a few days ago when Hinata was changing in their room.

Kenma hadn’t said anything at the exact moment, so Hinata didn’t even realize that Kenma had seen them. It wasn’t until ten minutes later when Yamaguchi and Nishinoya were barging into their room did Hinata realize that Kenma had seen and snitched.

 _What’s he doing leaving hickies there?_ Noya had demanded while Yamaguchi repeatedly asked if it “hurt at all.” _What is he, obsessed with you?_

Nishinoya and Yamaguchi were still convinced that Atsumu was “up to something.” Hell, the day after the first hook up, it had taken Hinata nearly two hours to convince Nishinoya to not report Atsumu to the campus police. Kenma himself was wary of the entire situation, but mostly just told Hinata to be careful—so Hinata was surprised (and also frustrated) to learn Kenma had ratted him out.

Turned out, Kenma had only messaged their friends because he thought Hinata’s collection of hickies was actually a _bruise._ Kenma was nose-deep in his Nintendo Switch when he caught glance of them, though, so Hinata supposed he couldn’t have blamed him too much. He knew his friends meant well, but Hinata mostly just felt guilty for ruining Yamaguchi and Noya’s friendship with Atsumu.

Nonetheless, Hinata stopped changing with Kenma in the room.

_Fifty-one._

Thankfully, his friends hadn’t asked to see the hickies on his neck. They probably would’ve thought Atsumu was choking him.

_Fifty-two._

Well, Atsumu _was_ choking him. Just not hard enough to bruise him.

_Fifty-three._

In all honestly, Hinata wasn’t a huge fan of choking. But Atsumu had asked to do it, so Hinata agreed. Partially because Hinata didn’t want to say _no_ to Atsumu, partially because Atsumu already had his hand around Hinata’s neck when he was asking.

_Fifty-four._

Hinata’s index finger landed on the final hickey, the same one he had counted earlier on his shoulder blade. Fifty-four indeed. Perhaps he skipped over a mark the first time around.

 _Fifty-four._ Hinata repeated this number over and over again in his head, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. The dark and vast array of hickies across Hinata’s skin gave his body some illusionary dimension, as if Hinata were hollowed out in certain places.

At last, Hinata tore his gaze away from the reflection to tug his clothes back on. The Smash Bros tournament that Kenma was at (the Gaming Club held one every Saturday) should’ve been ending soon, meaning that he’d be coming back any minute now, and that Hinata had to stop counting for tonight.

Hinata was always counting. Thirty-five hickies the first night. Four more the night following, after their dinner together. And now, it was two weeks later, and Hinata was left with fifty-four hickies, with Atsumu replacing those that faded along the way—constantly refreshing and reviving them, perpetually reminding Hinata absolutely nothing had changed about the fact that Kageyama Tobio just plain didn’t want him.

Two weeks later, and Hinata was every bit as heartbroken and bitter as he was before, counting hickies alone in his room and wondering when this was all going to start making him feel better. Two weeks later, and nothing had changed.

Nothing, of course, except for the hickies that were slowly starting to overlap.

* * *

“Don’t worry, Hinata. My group sucks too! You’re not the only one about to endure weeks of suffering.”

Nishinoya added a slap to Hinata’s back to his words of encouragement, almost sending Hinata tripping down the stairs of the humanities building as they left their linguistics class. As genuine as Noya’s attempts were, Hinata was having extreme difficulty keeping his heart out of his throat. 

If Fate were personified, Hinata could only imagine them to be hysterically laughing at Hinata.

_Alphabetically._

_Of_ course _the professor assigned the group projects alphabetically._

Hinata didn’t know So Inuoka very well—only as a friend of Kenma’s—but Hinata probably already owed the guy a personal apology. Because Inuoka was going to be the sole buffer between Hinata and Kageyama in their three-person project.

“My group members actually already added me to a group chat,” Noya said, “You know they asked me what the difference between phonetics and phonology was? Unbelievable.”

Hinata blinked at Noya, admittedly taken out of his own thoughts for a moment. He certainly didn’t know the disparity between the two. “Wait, what _is_ the difference?”

“Oh, fuck if I know. I just know we’re all dumb as hell and we’re all fucked.”

Hinata only laughed half-heartedly. He was still too focused on how Kageyama had reacted upon learning they were assigned the same group.

Because he _hadn’t_ reacted. At all. When Hinata had recovered from his initial shock to sneak a look at Kageyama, he had been typing notes on his laptop as always. _Why was he even taking notes? The lecture hadn’t even started at that point,_ thought Hinata in frustration.

What Hinata would do to know what Kageyama was thinking. The pair of them had originally agreed to take linguistics together to fulfill their humanities course requirement—was Kageyama regretting taking this class with Hinata? Or did he feel how Hinata felt—anxious, yet secretly grateful to be put in a situation where he’d be forced to speak with him again?

 _Or does he just not care?_ That definitely was the worst possibility. To Hinata, there wasn’t anything worse than complete disinterest. People always said hate and love were opposites, but his and Kageyama’s friendship had been the literal definition of how those two emotions blurred together. He’d _much_ rather Kageyama fully, _completely_ hate him than feel indifferently about him.

If Kageyama _truly_ was starting to feel apathetically towards Hinata… Hinata didn’t know what he’d do. And now, Hinata was torn between feeling grateful having the opportunity to be around Kageyama again, and wanting to leap off a cliff for having to relive his most painful moments.

Noya nudged Hinata with his shoulder, shaking the latter out of his thoughts once more. Evidently, he’d noticed Hinata’s attention drifting away.

“Hey, tell you what,” grinned Noya up at Hinata, “The prof wants us to have our topics picked by next class, right? Let’s meet at the library tomorrow night, both of our groups. That way we can make sure we don’t overlap topics, and you won’t have to suffer through Kageyama’s horrifyingly awkward aura.”

“You’d really be okay with doing that?” Hinata said, his eyes widening gratefully, “That’d be awesome! I can definitely handle Kageyama if there’s three other people there.”

“There’s the Hinata I knew from two weeks ago!” Noya grinned, “Slowly coming back to life.”

Hinata managed a smile before it immediately faded away again. _Oh. Right._ “Although… Tomorrow night, I kinda have… Well, not _plans_ , but—”

“Atsumu.” Nishinoya’s smile fell flat as they entered the dining hall, swiping their meal cards—they always grabbed lunch together right after linguistics. Kageyama used to come along with them, too. Not anymore. “Right. You see him on Tuesday nights. Well, tell him that since tomorrow’s a _Tuesday_ night, you’re gonna have homework, and he can wait a little. Or just not see you at all, because why does he want to see you on a Tuesday night?”

“Noya—”

“And Thursday nights. And Friday nights, and Saturday nights—”

“It’s not like it’s every day, or anything!”

“But it’s _four days a week.”_ Nishinoya slung his backpack into the seat of their usual booth, but instead of going to grab food, he sat down. Hinata figured that was his cue to sit down, too. Before he started seeing Atsumu, Hinata rarely saw Nishinoya as anything less than completely uncomposed—joking, laughing, and yelling over every little thing. But now, Hinata got to see Serious Noya all the time.

“Listen.” Noya put his hands together in a praying gesture, touching his hands to his lips before pointing them at Hinata. “I recognize that I’m an annoying asshole. But I keep telling you this because I’m your annoying asshole _friend_.”

“How is this gonna make me want to listen to you?”

“Because I am your elder, and therefore wiser. Older people are just smarter.”

Nishinoya folded his hands back into a normal resting position on the table before continuing to speak, back to Serious Noya Mode. “I’m serious about Atsumu, Shouyou. I get you’re still getting over Kageyama, but I’m starting to worry that Atsumu’s just taking advantage of you.

“That’s so dumb,” Hinata replied at once, “He doesn’t even know about Kageyama, so no, he’s not.”

“All I’m saying is that the only time you seem your normal self is when you talk about Kageyama,” Noya insisted, “And that whenever you talk about Atsumu, you dance around the topic and never really say things how they are. I don’t want to keep pressing you, but I’m going to keep reminding you that you don’t have to do any of this.”

“I know. I _want_ to. Why else would I keep fighting you on it?”

“Hey hey hey. This isn’t fighting.” Noya raised his hands up defensively. “I don’t fight with friends. Except with fake-ass friends, because I’m still down to fuck Atsumu up.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Eh, we’ll see.” With this, Noya finally stood up. Hinata stood up with him, ready to grab some lunch himself. All he wanted was food to eat and to busy his mouth with. “Okay, lecture time over. To the sandwich bar I go.”

Much to Hinata’s relief, Nishinoya left the topic of Atsumu alone for the rest of lunch, and Hinata was allowed to enjoy his hamburger in peace. And just as Hinata had been doing with most of his meals in the dining hall, he tried not to pay attention too closely to Kageyama’s empty seat beside him.

* * *

The following evening at the library was actually significantly less awkward than Hinata predicted it’d be.

Hinata had never felt more grateful for Noya than in that moment he sat down at their table—Nishinoya had purposefully taken the only seat next to Kageyama, saving Hinata from the possibility of enduring close proximity with him. Sure, Hinata was still sitting diagonally from Kageyama, but it still was much easier pretending to not look at him sitting in this particular arrangement.

After exchanging small talk and looking up the difference between phonology and phonetics for the sake of Noya’s group members, Matsukawa and Reon, the two groups focused on selecting their own topics.

Throughout the entire meeting, Hinata refused to make any movement that would acknowledge Kageyama’s presence.

Exactly one hour later, Hinata’s phone screen lit up with a notification. Hinata picked his phone up to reply at once, knowing who it was before even reading the text. Noya noticed this, but thankfully chose to remain quiet. Hinata was positive Noya would _not_ have chosen silence if it were just the pair of them, but Hinata appreciated his decision, nonetheless.

When Hinata left, he realized that he hadn’t looked at Kageyama a single time the entire meeting. He wanted to be proud of himself, but he just felt as awful as he always did.

Just before Hinata was leaving the back section of the library, though, he paused in his step—there by the entrance to the library’s language section was Atsumu, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

He greeted Hinata how he always did whenever they were in public—with a wide smile, putting his hand on Hinata’s back and guiding him as they walked. Hinata didn’t really care for Atsumu’s touch, but he was pretty sure that the pair of them were still visible from where Hinata’s classmates were still sitting…

Just as they were leaving the section of the library, Hinata decided— _oh, just screw it—_ and glanced back to where everyone was still sitting.

At that same second, Hinata saw Kageyama turn his head as he looked down at the desk, continuing focusing on his work.

Immediately, Hinata’s heart spiked in his chest. Had Kageyama been watching him? Had he seen the way Atmusu touched his back and led him out, the way he leaned down into his ear to speak?

Of course, Hinata turned back before he would be caught staring—no way was Hinata going to give Kageyama the satisfaction of knowing Hinata was watching him.

Atsumu’s room was just a ten-minute walk from the library. As they walked, Hinata vaguely wondered how many more hickies he’d have in fifteen minutes.

If Hinata wasn’t so focused on counting, phonetics, and ebony eyes, he might have noticed the way Atsumu’s hand pressed heavier into Hinata’s back—and the way that Atsumu, too, had turned back to look at Kageyama.

* * *

Their groups met again that Friday night. None of the group members were too happy about it, but another project assignment was due on Monday and they couldn’t agree on a time to meet during the weekend.

The two groups had decided to continue working together, officially relieving Hinata of having to endure Kageyama’s presence alone with poor Inuoka as a moderator. When Hinata really thought about it, though, he wasn’t sure if he was really thankful for this or not.

Yes, it would certainly hurt less to have Noya and other people to distract him from the sole reason of his heartbreak, but Hinata was starting to _severely_ ache for everything he and Kageyama used to have. Noya, Yamaguchi, and Kenma were all great friends, but everything was just different with Kageyama. Hinata wasn’t comfortable bursting into Yamaguchi and Tsukishima’s room at one in the morning to go get late-night dining, but he could do _anything_ with Kageyama. _Say_ anything to Kageyama.

And as the week had passed, Hinata was starting to realize he had the exact _opposite_ relationship with Atsumu.

Atsumu was easy enough to talk with, Hinata supposed, seeing as they didn’t really talk all that much beyond Atsumu’s bed. It was just that Hinata felt like he couldn’t really _tell_ him anything. Hinata was never the type to dwell on outcomes, but he was careful of everything he said and did around Atsumu, constantly aware of the possible effects of his actions.

Even in bed—especially, actually—Hinata made sure to respond the exact way Atsumu instructed. _Open your eyes. Look at me. Spread your legs. On your knees._ Whatever Atsumu said, Hinata did. He was always sensitive to whatever it was Atsumu wanted.

So, Hinata genuinely felt guilty when Atsumu made a face upon learning Hinata had a group meeting Friday night, a time he normally spent in Atsumu’s room.

 _You mean that group project with Kageyama,_ Atsumu had asked. Hinata had nodded in response, adding that _Well Noya will be there, too,_ but Atsumu had seemingly stopped listening at that point.

As it was indeed a Friday evening, Nishinoya’s group rushed through their assignment as quickly as possible—in fact, Matsukawa and Reon were in and out of the library within thirty minutes. Which left just Inuoka, Hinata, Kageyama, and Noya (who, of course, stayed for emotional support, pledging he didn’t have “anywhere to be until eleven”).

Hinata was starting to get a bit antsy, because he knew damn well that Kageyama didn’t have anything better to do on a Friday night. As long as Inuoka and Noya were there, though, Hinata _should_ be fine.

Until Inuoka started to pack up his things, too.

_Oh no._

“Sorry, guys,” Inuoka said with a sheepish smile to Hinata and Kageyama, “I gotta get going. I finished the formatting for all the slides, though, so hopefully that’s enough.”

“Yeah, totally.” Hinata hoped his voice didn’t come out as foreign as it sounded in his head. There was no way Nishinoya _wasn’t_ about to passive-aggressively tear into Kageyama with just the three of them there. “Thanks, Inuoka.”

“And tell Kenma to come say hi to me at some point! I miss that nerd.”

“Yuh-huh.”

Inuoka finished packing up and sped away from the table, leaving Hinata wondering how the hell he was going to diffuse the bomb he could already see ticking on Noya’s face.

That was, until Hinata heard Inuoka’s cheery greeting from behind them.

“Oh, hey, Atsumu!”

Simultaneously, Hinata, Noya, and Kageyama _snapped_ their heads up.

“Wait, what?” Hinata said instinctually, spinning around in his seat. Indeed, Atsumu was striding across the second-floor foyer, waving _hello_ to Inuoka as they walked past each other.

Hinata locked eyes with Atsumu, and for some reason, all he felt was panic.

“What are you doing here?” Hinata asked as Atsumu approached their table, coming to a stop directly behind Hinata. The shorter had to turn his head to the side and directly up to look at him, and he _prayed_ he was doing a good job stripping all anxiety from his voice.

“I’m picking you up. I got bored,” Atsumu said obviously with a grin, “You’re the one keeping me waiting on a Friday, you know. And besides, everyone else already left, right?”

Just then, Atsumu rested his hand on Hinata’s shoulder. A gesture so simple and innocent, and yet, his touch shot streaks of fire through him, burning up his face and clamming his hands.

 _Kageyama._ All Hinata could ever think about was him. _There’s no way Kageyama_ isn’t _seeing—_

“C’mon, let’s get going.” Atsumu squeezed Hinata’s shoulder, then looked at Nishinoya and Kageyama, offering them a smile. “Hi Yu, hey Kageyama.”

“Hey,” Nishinoya said plainly. He and Atsumu still weren’t on the best of terms, or on any terms at all, really.

Kageyama, though, barely nodded at Atsumu—Hinata saw out of his periphery.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Hinata mumbled in response to Atsumu. At this point, his only option of feeling better was to just leave the situation entirely. “I’ll finish my part up later, then. Just give me a second.”

Hinata shut his laptop, shuffling his items into his bag in painful silence. Not even Nishinoya could relieve tensions this thick.

Just as Hinata was standing, though, he paused. More out of instinct than anything else, Hinata suddenly looked up. Hinata wasn’t sure _how_ he knew, but at that moment, he was sure of it—

Indeed, when Hinata glanced up, Kageyama was staring directly at Hinata. His piercing, dark gaze completely startled him, hitching his breath right in his throat—because Hinata hadn’t seen it in _so long—_

Hinata must’ve been frozen in his spot for a few seconds, because he wasn’t brought back to the present until Atsumu squeezed his shoulder again.

“Shouyou, let’s go.” Atsumu spoke lowly, leaning down and speaking closer to Hinata’s ear. Even though Hinata was facing away from Atsumu, he could tell from his voice that he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Hinata was first to break eye contact, letting Atsumu turn him away with his hand firmly on Hinata’s back like usual. He always liked touching Hinata in public for some reason, but his touch felt much more purposeful this time.

Hinata didn’t look back at Kageyama again, but he noticed that Nishinoya was clenching his hands into fists on the table as Atsumu led him away.

_Kageyama reacted for once. If you can even call it that. Isn’t this what you wanted?_

But Hinata didn’t feel happy, justified, or even a little bit satisfied. If anything, he just felt ridiculous—putting so much value on a single glance from Kageyama, desperately waiting for the slightest of gestures.

 _Isn’t this what you wanted? To make Kageyama jealous?_ Hinata thought as Atsumu opened the library door for Hinata, hand now tightly gripping his shoulder. Hinata did, he _did_ want to see Kageyama react, but for some reason, all Hinata felt at that moment when he saw Atsumu was dread.

Because Atsumu was _not_ supposed to be there. Hinata had specifically told Atsumu that he’d be meeting him outside the library at eight. Not to come find him in the library at seven-forty.

Because Hinata was at the point where he was missing Kageyama so much that all he wanted to do was fix everything. Not to push them apart even further with this boy Kageyama knew nothing about.

Because Hinata was up to sixty-one hickies, and judging by the grip on his shoulder that was growing uncomfortably tight, he was about to be touching the seventies.

* * *

Within just five minutes of arriving to Atsumu’s room, Hinata was getting split open with three digits. This wouldn’t have been anything stand-out or distinctive, had Atsumu’s face not been set in a look of stone the entire time.

_He’s mad, isn’t he?_

When they had left the library earlier, he wasn’t _completely_ sure if Atsumu was upset or not. But now, even though Hinata was an entire headspace away, he could tell that Atsumu definitely _was_ —even if Hinata didn’t know exactly why _,_ and even if his anger didn’t show on his face. Because it showed plenty in his actions.

Hinata got seven new hickies, instead of the usual three or four. Atsumu started with two fingers instead of one. Instead of slicking his fingers with his saliva, Atsumu just spit again and again on Hinata’s hole as he scissored him open with his digits, which felt a lot more degrading than Hinata expected. Maybe that was the point. Maybe Hinata kind of liked it.

Just then, Atsumu slid his fingers out of Hinata, causing the smaller boy to puff out a breath of relief from the release. Slowly letting his eyes open, Hinata peered up at Atsumu hovering over him in the dimmed, red LED strip lights lining the dorm room ceiling.

Hinata had wondered why Atsumu stopped—Atsumu was currently tossing away the wrapper of a condom, having just rolled the latex over his hardened length. Hinata himself still wasn’t completely hard, his half-stiffened cock twitching against his stomach. Hinata didn’t mind, though. He usually didn’t finish anyways.

Drying his hand on the towel placed underneath Hinata, Atsumu reached down to drag his fingers over Hinata’s neck, drawing circles around his fresh hickies.

“… You stopped…” Hinata mumbled, unsure of what else to say. He fidgeted underneath Atsumu when he continued to quietly trace shapes into his skin, zig-zagging around his bruises.

“Only for a little,” Atsumu replied in a low murmur, “I’m taking my time.”

“You don’t have to,” said Hinata meekly. He really didn’t, at this point. Hinata had long since gotten used to this. “I promise, I’m ready… I’ve been ready.” 

“Ready, huh?” Atsumu chuckled, but he wasn’t smiling. “You sure?”

Hinata nodded, letting his head loll to the side. Sometimes, if Hinata stared at Atsumu for too long, he’d be suddenly reminded of how much he really doesn’t look like Kageyama, with his broad shoulders and intense brow.

 _Kageyama._ Hinata just _knew_ that he wanted to say something to Hinata just then at the library. _Why didn’t he?_ Slowly, he let his eyes fall shut, even if Kageyama’s dark gaze would be the only thing he’d see against his closed eyelids, ready for Atsumu to just take over again. He needed to be distracted. He needed it to hurt.

And hurt it did.

The hand grazing Hinata’s throat suddenly lunged forward into a tight grip, fingertips fastening around his neck. Hinata’s eyes shot open, opening his mouth to cry out but unable to make any noise.

“You like closing your eyes a lot, hmm?” His voice had dropped so low that Hinata wouldn’t have been able to hear it had he been breathing. “You’re gonna watch me right now. Understand?”

Hinata was unable to respond, as all breath had completely left his lungs, but Hinata didn’t dare protest. Maybe Atsumu took the tears that were now threatening to brim Hinata’s eyes as an answer, because he let go of him. Hinata took in a shaking breath, coughing and struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You’re gonna watch me,” Atsumu said again, his words now coming out in a growl. Atsumu grabbed Hinata’s legs by underneath his knees, pushing them towards the mattress. Hinata wailed, not at all used to his body being bent in half. _He’s never done this before._

“I-I’m not, I’m n-not that flexible!” protested Hinata, his words stumbling out of his mouth, “Atsumu, don’t—”

Hinata breathed out as Atsumu let go, but he didn’t look like he was taking pity on him.

“Hold your legs open,” said Atsumu, “Grab them like I just did. Underneath your knees, both hands. Spread ‘em open.”

Hinata complied, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stretch himself in half like that again. He sniffled, gripping his own legs and exposing himself completely to Atsumu.

Atsumu’s gaze flickered over Hinata, relishing the position he had gotten the smaller boy into. He leaned over Hinata, his left hand propped up on the mattress besides his face.

Atsumu guided his length with his other hand, pushing the tip flush against the entrance of Hinata’s hole and giving his cock a couple of strokes. Even though Atsumu’s digits had been inside Hinata just minutes prior, Hinata groaned in pain as Atsumu pushed his thick length half-way inside Hinata in one smooth thrust. Not a lot of lube was on the condom, making the intrusion dryer than usual.

“A-ah!” whimpered out Hinata, tossing his head back into the pillows, “At-Atsumu—h-hurts!”

“You said you were ready,” said Atsumu simply. He pushed the rest of his cock into him, hissing in pleasure as his hips met Hinata’s. Hinata dug his fingernails into the skin of his legs, his chest rising and falling with short breaths and more whimpers.

“You said you were ready,” repeated Atsumu in response to Hinata’s noises. “Didn’t you?”

Hinata was used to the way Atsumu talked in bed. Sometimes, Hinata even really liked it, since it was really good at distracting Hinata. But what Atsumu said next just completely took Hinata out of his current mindset.

“You’re ready, yeah? You’ve handled plenty of cocks before so you can easily handle me, is that right?”

_What?_

How on Earth did he arrive at that conclusion? Hinata had no idea. Vaguely, Hinata thought back to the only other time where he’d felt confused like this—their second hook-up, after Atsumu had taken Hinata out to dinner three weeks ago. Atsumu had asked about Hinata’s friends, if Hinata had ever considered sleeping with them.

Hinata didn’t think of it as anything more than dirty talk at the time. But now, it was evident that Atsumu _genuinely_ thought that Hinata was the hook-up type…

_Has… Has he really thought that about me, the entire time?_

Hinata probably would have said something like _that’s not true_ or _why would you think that_ if Atsumu hadn’t already began moving inside him, making it so that every word Hinata attempted to utter melted into a whine. When they had first hooked up, Atsumu had waited nearly five minutes before moving at all, pressing small kisses all over Hinata’s face as he waited for him to adjust. Within just two weeks, five minutes had dropped to thirty seconds, and kisses were just replaced with more marks. _So many marks._

Atsumu suddenly grabbed Hinata’s neck again, pushing in and out of him with full, deep thrusts as his hand wrapped around the smaller boy’s throat. But he didn’t tighten his grip this time, probably because he actually needed Hinata to speak.

“Answer me,” demanded Atsumu breathlessly, but even he was unable to keep his face from twitching in pleasure, “Answer me, whore. You’ve handled a lot of dicks before me, yeah?”

“N-no,” managed Hinata in a small voice, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice—from the movements of Atsumu’s cock slowly increasing speed inside him, and from what Atsumu called him. _Whore?_ He hadn’t been called that before. “No, I haven’t… First, you…”

Hinata didn’t often catch Atsumu by surprise, so when he did, it was obvious—Atsumu’s eyebrows raised, not significantly but still quite noticeably.

“What was that?” Atsumu kept a firm hold on Hinata’s neck, his left hand still propped up besides Hinata’s head as his thick cock continued stretching him open. “Speak up.”

“I… Haven’t. Ever,” mumbled Hinata, taking in quiet, short breaths as he gazed into Atsumu’s deep brown eyes, “You were my first… Everything…”

And with these words, it was as if Hinata set something off in Atsumu.

His heavy gaze suddenly glazed over, as if in complete satisfaction. Perhaps even triumph. _What a strange emotion to feel over someone,_ Hinata thought vaguely.

Just like that, a couple of pieces fell into place for Hinata.

The way Atsumu always touched Hinata in public, all of his comments and behavior surrounding Kageyama and his friends, the hickies—finally, Hinata realized—

When he’d told Atsumu all those weeks ago that he didn’t want anything serious, Atsumu had likely assumed that Hinata didn’t like _commitment._ That Hinata wasn’t ready to be tied down to one person. Not that Hinata was going through something, that he was completely shattered on the inside—

_He really thought that I wanted to see other people?_

_That I was seeing other people before him?_

_So the hickies… Would’ve stopped me from seeing other people…_

“Well, well, well…” murmured Atsumu, readjusting his grip on Hinata’s neck. His eyes were positively gleaming.

“And here I was thinking you just couldn’t kiss me back properly our first night together because you were drunk.” His words were edged with ravished joy.

“But that was your first kiss…”

Atsumu made a humming noise, as if a couple of puzzle pieces had fallen into place in his own head, too. “I would’ve thought you were a little slut, so pretty and small as you are.”

“I’m not a slut—hnnyah…” Hinata cut himself off with his own moan, for Atsumu had suddenly jerked back his hips and brought them forward sharply, his length hitting against _that spot_ again.

“Fuck,” groaned Atsumu, eyes wild as he looked all over Hinata’s pleasured face, jutting into him sharply again and again, “You— _fuck._ You _are_ a fucking slut, Shouyou… Letting me fuck you like this. But you’re only _my_ slut, aren’t you, baby? Letting me fuck you every other night… Whenever I want. You’re such a little slut for me, huh?”

His voice sounded different, now—full of unfiltered lust. It sounded delirious, even.

Hinata didn’t, _couldn’t_ reply, too preoccupied with the way Atsumu was fucking into him to even think of words. The only noises that left his mouth were small moans, his eyes half-open. It was starting to feel _really_ good, better than it had ever felt. _That spot. Please, that spot—_

Atsumu’s right hand then moved from his neck to grip his chin and jaw, as if he were trying to indent his fingertips into his skin.

“Open your mouth,” Atsumu muttered, grip tight on Hinata’s jaw. His calloused fingertips felt rough against Hinata’s flushed, sensitive skin. When Hinata didn’t comply right away, Atsumu pulled his hand back and smacked his face—not very hard, but not lightly, either. _That’s new._

The hit forced a small cry from Hinata’s lips, and Hinata swore he saw the corners of Atsumu’s lips turn upwards.

“I said. _Open.”_ Atsumu had begun pounding into Hinata faster, no longer fucking him with fully pulled-out-and-in thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout his room, and Hinata could feel the springs of the mattress move underneath him with every thrust. Weakly, Hinata let his mouth fall open and parted his lips further—they were already partially open from all the moans and mewls he was letting out.

“That’s a good whore,” praised Atsumu lowly, “ _My_ good little whore. You’re only a whore for me, huh?”

Atsumu spit into Hinata’s mouth, some of his saliva landing on Hinata’s chin.

Hinata’s eyes widened, but he had no time to react—with the hand that was gripping Hinata’s jaw so tightly, Atsumu forced his mouth shut, clamping his palm over his lips as he continued to fuck into him.

“Yeah, fucking swallow it,” growled Atsumu, blunt fingernails digging into Hinata’s jaw. “Fuck… I knew you’d be so perfect for me, baby. Ever since I saw you. I knew you’d look so pretty taking my cock.”

Hinata moaned against Atsumu’s palm, gazing up at Atsumu with half-crescent eyes. Every night they spent together, Atsumu’s eyes would shine as if he were on a high—completely intoxicated from the touch of Hinata’s skin. But now, it seemed that Atsumu’s desire and lust had settled into possession, complete domination.

Suddenly, Atsumu stopped his movements and pulled away—he sat back, completely pulling out of Hinata. The smaller gasped softly, not expecting to be left empty again so soon. Then, the sound of latex, and the distant sound of plastic crinkling.

Before Hinata could react, Atsumu pushed Hinata’s legs apart and slid his cock inside of Hinata once again.

“Atsumu—ah!” gasped Hinata, for only then did he realize what Atsumu was doing when he had pulled back— _the condom was gone._ Atsumu had thrown it away.

Without the drag of the latex, Atsumu slid inside him with a slick, hot thrust. A rugged, drawn-out groan fell from Atsumu’s lips, the taller furrowing his brows in pleasure.

“I’m your first, yeah?” Atsumu said, “We don’t need that anymore, do we?”

 _But I’m not_ your _first._ But in all honestly, Hinata wasn’t going to protest, no—Hinata might have complained if it didn’t feel so _good._ Feeling Atsumu’s hot, raw cock buried deep inside of him just felt _infinitely_ better.

It was like he was closer to Atsumu, this way. There wasn’t a barrier between them.

 _He wants you_ that _badly. This is what you wanted._

“This is how I’m going to fuck your pretty little body from now on…”

_From now on._

_Why does that sound like a long time?_

“Just like this.”

At that moment, Atsumu grabbed Hinata’s hands, wrapping his hands around Hinata’s thin wrists. He then forced his wrists besides Hinata’s head, leaning back down so that their foreheads were touching.

And then, everything hurt so _good._

With another hiss of pleasure, Atsumu began pounding harshly into Hinata’s body, abusing his barely-stretched hole. Underneath them, the posts of Atsumu’s bed creaked loudly, but nowhere near loud enough to even begin overtaking the sounds of Hinata’s cries of anguished pleasure.

“Ah, ah, ah—ah, A-Atsumu!” wailed Hinata, continuous moans spilling out of his lips, “Hurts… Good… Hurts so _good_ …”

“Fuck,” muttered Atsumu, “Fuck, you’re so hot when you moan. Fuck.”

He leaned down to kiss Hinata, pushing his tongue into Hinata’s mouth easily. Hinata, who still didn’t have a handle on kissing like this, tried his best to respond, sliding his tongue across Atsumu’s. Maybe he did something right, because Atsumu moaned into Hinata’s mouth.

Atsumu’s lips then kissed the corner of Hinata’s mouth, then his jawline, trailing to his ear. Hinata could feel the grip on his wrists tightening, and somehow, the force of Atsumu’s cock abusing his walls in the most amazing way possible.

“You’re such a pretty little whore for me… So fucking small,” groaned Atsumu into Hinata’s ear, “So perfect… You’re so fucking perfect for me, baby, taking my cock so well…”

Atsumu’s words trailed off into another groan, his breath warm and wet. His lips lazily trailed from Hinata’s earlobe, across his jaw, before landing on Hinata’s lips once again.

“No one else.” Atsumu was muttering against Hinata’s lips, his words just barely audible. “No one else gets to touch you… Understand?”

“Hnng,” was all Hinata could manage in response. His entire body was trembling underneath Atsumu, his skin flush with sweat. Normally, he’d expect Atsumu to grab his face or his neck for not replying properly. But they were evidently both lost in their own pursuits of pleasure, Atsumu just going back to kiss Hinata—and Hinata felt _good,_ really good—was it supposed to feel like this every time, with his body aching for more?

“Fuck, Shouyou… _Fuck,_ you’re so fucking hot, fuck…”

Weakly, to the best of his ability, Hinata attempted to move his hips in rhythm with Atsumu’s movements, bringing them forward with every push Atsumu forced in. All he wanted was for him to hit that spot, that same spot—

“F-fuck,” hissed Atsumu, readjusting his tight grip still on Hinata’s wrists. Judging by Atsumu’s rough groans, Hinata’s movements did not go unnoticed—if anything, they were sending him over the edge. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy little slut for me, Shouyou, _fuck_ that’s so hot. _Fuck,_ I’m so close…”

_Wait—_

_Already…?_

“You’re so fucking good, baby…”

 _But it feels too good, it_ finally _feels_ really _good—_

But with just a dozen or so more thrusts, Atsumu came inside of him—without the condom, Hinata always expected to be able to feel liquid, but he didn’t—what Hinata _did_ feel was a throbbing sensation, Atsumu’s cock pulsing and completely buried inside of Hinata. In his ear, Atsumu was groaning and spitting curses, his fingers entangling into Hinata’s hair and harshly pulling as he emptied into Hinata.

_Don’t stop yet._

That was strange. Hinata hadn’t remembered thinking that so explicitly before. Never had he been left with such a distinctly burning sensation, like a warm buzz inside him desperately aching for attention. For the first time, Hinata had actually been chasing something, a thrill, a high that was no longer available to him.

Hinata didn’t move for a while.

For a few minutes, Atsumu remained inside of Hinata, panting and chest heaving on top of of the smaller boy. Hinata could feel his own walls clench and twitch around Atsumu, each rising a groan from the taller.

When Atsumu finally pulled out, Hinata’s legs collapsed inwards, his knees touching. It felt like they hadn’t had the support of the mattress for hours.

Atsumu cleaned him up. Hinata let him Atsumu move him as he did so, the older sweeping between Hinata’s legs with a cloth. Atsumu did a few more things after that, like changing the towel underneath Hinata, tugging on his boxer briefs, fixing his bedsheets that had gotten disarrayed in the process. At one point, he even sat Hinata up and had him drink some water.

 _This is nice,_ thought Hinata as he sipped from the cup Atsumu was holding for him, _This means that he’s nice, right?_

By the time Atsumu was back in bed, Hinata was already half-asleep, curled up and facing the wall. Crawling besides Hinata, he pulled the smaller close, back against the taller’s chest.

“Sleeping so soon?” murmured Atsumu into the nape of Hinata’s neck, pressing a kiss into his skin. Hinata wondered which hickey he was kissing. “Did I wear you out, baby?”

“Mmmph.” _Too tired for words._

Atsumu just chuckled in response, not at all like the Atsumu who had gripped Hinata by the throat for not replying properly just twenty minutes ago.

“Okay, cutie. You don’t have to do anything, okay?”

Atsumu turned Hinata’s face towards his for a brief kiss, and Hinata’s breath hitched—the faint buzz inside him spiked again, as it hadn’t truly went away in the past ten or so minutes—

But Atsumu didn’t do anything else, pulling Hinata against his chest once more. Again, Hinata was left feeling unsatisfied.

Hinata had always been fine with not getting his own release. Now, though, Hinata was just staring at the wall, frustrated and pent-up in a way he didn’t think would be possible in this bed.

Hinata was thinking for so long that he was still awake when Osamu entered the room an entire hour later (Hinata suspected the brothers would exchange timeframes on when to be in and out of the room). Even after Osamu himself had settled into bed and fallen asleep, Hinata’s eyes were still open, blinking slowly at the wall.

As the burning sensation in Hinata’s abdomen finally simmered away, Hinata realized that he’d been far too focused on feeling desired, validated, that he hadn’t even thought to consider what he, at his core, truly wanted.

* * *

The following morning, Hinata was counting hickey number forty-eight when there was a knock on his door.

Bare-naked and stood in front of his door-hanging mirror, he froze—for a moment, he thought Kenma had come back early, before remembering that Kenma likely wouldn’t knock on the door to his own dorm.

A few more seconds passed, and the knock didn’t return. Thankfully, whoever it was decided that they didn’t need to speak to the room’s inhabitant(s) that badly.

Hinata released the breath he was holding in a sigh of relief, continuing with his counting. He’d returned to his room just ten minutes ago, and since he’d gotten quite a few new marks the previous night (and just that morning, too), Hinata had to update the number.

As he counted number fifty-four, Hinata realized that many of the marks must’ve been replaced that morning, as many of them were overlayed with darker splotches. Generally speaking, Hinata was always surprised by Atsumu’s patience to consistently maintain each bite, but even _this_ was new; Atsumu was usually too tired to do too much whenever they awoke. Perhaps his discovery of being Hinata’s first had stirred a new motivation within him—Hinata had been wondering how that bit of information would change the way Atsumu acted from now on.

 _From now on._ Now that Hinata had the time to properly fixate on Atsumu’s words from the night before, it really _did_ seem like Atsumu was referring to this going on for a long time.

Before last night, Hinata hadn’t deeply considered what he wanted the future between them to look like, but he was starting to feel like he could at least use a break from all of this. Daily counting _was_ getting to be pretty exhausting. At the same time, though, Hinata wasn’t sure—yes, feeling wanted was nice, but he also wasn’t very keen on having another conversation with Atsumu where he’d be having to tell him _no._

Suddenly, there was another knock on the door.

The sound of knuckles against hardwood jarred Hinata from his count and thoughts—had the same person from before been standing there the entire time?

“Hinata, I know you’re in there.”

Immediately, Hinata’s throat tightened, his heartbeat halting before rapidly firing against his ribcage—because _Kageyama_ was at his door.

Kageyama was at his door, and he was _speaking_ to him for the first time in weeks, and Hinata had no idea what to do.

“Hinata, open up!”

Kageyama’s voice, laced with anger just as always. Hinata hadn’t heard it directed towards him in three weeks. Oh, how Hinata loved the way Kageyama said his name. He hadn’t realized how desperately he missed it—

A harsh sound of metal clanking—Kageyama was now roughly jiggling Hinata’s doorknob. “I could hear you speaking, dumbass. Just open up already.”

Hinata cussed underneath his breath—Kageyama could really hear Hinata counting out loud? With his pulse hammering in his ears, Hinata scrambled to get redressed, tugging on some sweats, a sweater—but he needed his scarf, where was it?

Finally, Hinata saw the red fabric hanging off the back of his desk chair—

“Hinata, I _swear_ —”

“I’m coming, alright?!” Hinata yelled, snatching the scarf and throwing it around his neck as he stomped to the door, “Jeez, do you have absolutely _zero_ patience—”

Hinata yanked the door open, his glare washing off his face the moment his eyes actually landed on Kageyama. In his rush, Hinata had somehow forgotten that the two of them hadn’t spoken in weeks—it was just too easy to fall back into this pattern with Kageyama. But now that Hinata was looking up at him, the taller’s hands awkwardly pushed into the pocket of his hoodie—just like they were the last time they’d spoken—all the gut-twisting, chest-clutching pain that Hinata had tried to cover with splotches of purple and blue came collapsing back down on him at once.

Kageyama rocked back on his heels, almost immediately breaking eye contact with Hinata and looking away. “Can I come in?”

Hinata swallowed. “Would you really go away if I said no—okay, yes, you can come in, jeez,” Hinata mumbled, cutting himself off when Kageyama made a face at his snarky reply.

Hinata stepped to the side, Kageyama stepped in, and the door shut with a sharp _snap_ behind him. It’d been a while since Kageyama had been in this room, which may have been why he was looking around like he’d never been there before. Or maybe he was just _that_ determined to not look at Hinata.

“How’d you know I was in here?” Hinata asked, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Hopefully, his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“I ran into Kenma in the rec center. He kinda told me.”

Hinata wasn’t sure how to feel about this—as much as he missed speaking with Kageyama, a heads-up from his own roommate would’ve been nice. _How many times is Kenma going to snitch on me?_

“Are you not going to ask why I’m here?” Kageyama continued. Hinata blinked, redirecting his gaze from the floor to Kageyama—the taller boy was looking down at him again, flushing even more heat to his face.

“No,” Hinata said honestly. He was too caught up in the _fact_ of Kageyama being here that he hadn’t even gotten to the _why._ “What, you want me to ask you so you don’t have to bring it up yourself?”

“Do you always have to bicker with me?” Kageyama said irritably, “Can’t you just let me talk for once?”

“Then talk,” Hinata snapped, “You don’t have to be so dramatic.”

Hinata expected Kageyama to bite back with another seething response, but to his surprise, he paused. After a few seconds of silence, Kageyama finally chose his words.

“You’ve been quiet.”

Hinata scoffed. How characteristic of Kageyama to make such an astute observation, all without recognizing his own role in it.

“Gee, I wonder _why,”_ Hinata drawled, “It’s not like you told me you don’t want to be friends anymore or anything, huh?”

“ _No,”_ Kageyama said firmly, “That’s not what—”

“ _That’s_ why you’re here? Because you’re surprised we don’t talk anymore? Like _you_ weren’t the one who walked out of my room first, like _you_ haven’t been the one ignoring _me—”_

“How is that even a _little_ bit fair?” Kageyama retorted, “I wouldn’t be _ignoring_ you if your _psycho_ roommate didn’t tell me that all I’d do is make everything worse!”

“I—what?” Hinata said, his thoughts pausing as he blinked up at Kageyama. “Kenma said something to you?”

Kageyama blinked right back at Hinata, equally confused. “What, did he not tell you? How he literally came to my room and yelled at me?”

Hinata’s mouth fell open. “He _yelled?”_

“Loudly,” Kageyama said darkly, “My RA was really fucking pissed. But anyways—”

“I thought you said Kenma told you I was in here! If _he’s_ the reason you’ve been ignoring me, then why would he tell you where I am?”

“Well, he didn’t _tell_ me exactly, I kind of just assumed—”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“Can you _please_ just let me talk?” Kageyama said hotly, “Please? This really isn’t what I wanted to talk about and it’s not that important.”

“… Fine,” Hinata grumbled. He’d just ask Kenma about everything later. “Fine. You can talk again.”

Hinata crossed his arms tighter over his chest, glaring down at the ground as he waited for Kageyama to continue speaking. Except Kageyama had stopped speaking entirely, leaving them hanging in each other’s silence.

“Are you going to talk or not—”

“Your scarf. You wear it every day, don’t you?”

Hinata snapped his head up. Kageyama was now staring intently at the red scarf wrapped around Hinata’s throat—with their fighting, Hinata hadn’t realized that Kageyama’s gaze, so determinedly _not_ looking at Hinata, had instead settled on his scarf. There was a look of surprise in Kageyama's eyes, as if he had just made a sudden realization—clearly, Hinata's scarf was _not_ the topic that Kageyama originally had in mind, but now, it seemed to be the only thing he cared about.

"Don't you," Kageyama repeated, now looking directly at Hinata. He was no longer asking Hinata, instead telling him.

Instinctively, Hinata wanted to take a step back, because he had a terrible feeling he knew exactly where this was going. But his feet wouldn’t let him move—the moment Kageyama said the word _scarf,_ the same weight that had twisted in Hinata’s gut the day before when Atsumu unexpectedly picked him up sank even further into his body, firmly cementing his feet to the floor.

“I don’t see you every day anymore, so I didn’t notice it for a while,” Kageyama said plainly. Whether he was intrigued, upset, or angry, Hinata had no idea—just then, he was making the same, unreadable face that he'd made three weeks ago in the dining hall bathroom, when he caught sight of Hinata's hickey for the first time. “But I literally just realized that every time I’ve seen you in the past few weeks, you’ve been wearing that scarf. Which means you wear it every day, right?”

Hinata shook his head. Not because Kageyama was wrong, but because he was absolutely correct.

“… Kageyama, please don’t,” was all Hinata could think to say. Within him, a quiet panic brewed, causing him to draw even closer into himself.

“Why are you even wearing a scarf in your own room?”

“Kageyama, _please—”_

Suddenly, Kageyama reached forward, his fingers attempting to close around the tassels of Hinata’s scarf. Hinata flinched, shoving him away with both hands—Kageyama responded by stepping forward, closing the space in between them and grabbing the front of Hinata’s sweater.

“S-stop, Kageyama!” Hinata stammered, wildly attempting to shove him away— _he’s so close to me—_ “Don’t you _dare_ , Kageyama Tobio—”

“Hinata, just let me—”

“Let go of me, Kageyama—it isn’t any of your _business!”_

With another jerk, Hinata attempted to yank himself away, but to no avail—with his free hand, Kageyama’s fingers closed around the end of Hinata’s scarf, tugging it off with a slash. The scarf hit the floor the same time cold air hit Hinata’s revealed skin, prickling his neck.

Hinata’s heart was now firmly lodged in his throat, as there was perhaps no sensation more intense than this, Kageyama’s eyes firmly glued to his neck and scanning over his skin. From his eyes alone, Hinata could see how his gaze darted from hickey to hickey, analyzing each bite and each placement.

For a few seconds, Kageyama just looked at Hinata. Beyond flushed and unspeakably anxious, Hinata had to divert his gaze away, trying not to focus too intensely on Kageyama’s closed fist against his chest. Even with a layer of clothing as a divider, his touch felt like fire.

When Kageyama spoke again, it sounded forced.

“What are these?” said Kageyama, his voice sounding flat. If Hinata weren’t completely miserable, he might have laughed.

“What type of question is that?” Hinata replied, “You’re going to ask that again like you didn’t just pull my scarf off expecting to see something? What do you think they are?”

“Who are they from?”

“Who do you think they’re from?”

Hinata didn’t mean for his words to have so much bite to them, and he might have regretted it if Kageyama had reacted in any way besides just blinking down at him.

Then, Kageyama took out his phone and started dialing a number.

“What are you doing?” Hinata asked.

“Calling the fucking police, that’s what the fuck I’m doing—”

“ _What?!_ What for?!” Hinata shouted. He pounced forward, swiping at Kageyama’s phone, but the taller boy just held it high above Hinata’s reach.

“What do you mean, what for?!” said Kageyama exasperatedly, his eyes suddenly crazed, “You’re asking me _why?_ He’s fucking _hitting_ you and it’s all my fucking fault so of _course_ I’m calling the police!”

“He—what?”

That was entirely too much to process all at once—Kageyama’s words, his tone, the way his eyes lit in fury. _Who is he even angry at, now?_

“He—he doesn’t hit me!” Hinata stammered quickly, for Kageyama was punching in the final numbers to the campus police hotline, “They’re just hickies! What are you, insane?”

_“Hickies?”_

The word left Kageyama’s mouth as if he had never heard it before.

“Hickies?” Kageyama repeated. The phone in his grasp was shaking, his hand trembling in rage. “You’re gonna tell me that those are _hickies?”_

“What, like you’ve never seen them before?” Hinata retorted, “You saw them the last time we talked! Why are you so shocked—”

Hinata was interrupted by Kageyama suddenly grabbing onto his shoulders, gaze heavy as he attempted to twist Hinata around.

“What are you doing—”

“Hinata, just move—”

“What are you _doing—”_

In a fast movement, Kageyama turned him so that he was facing the mirror. He stared at the taller boy in the glass, and the hands on his shoulders. Kageyama’s hold on him felt nice. Even after everything, it felt nice.

“Look, Hinata! _Look_ at yourself!”

Unwillingly, Hinata’s eyes flickered down to his own reflection. He looked about as hollow as he felt.

“These are _bruises._ Fucking _bruises,_ Hinata.”

It was a reflection that Hinata spent every day studying, but with Kageyama as the backdrop to his pale skin, every mark suddenly seemed so much darker and larger than they usually did. Hinata would individually count them so dedicatedly that he hadn’t noticed how most of them had blurred together at the edges.

“You’re going to look at yourself and tell me these don’t look like bruises?”

Even though Hinata was busy staring at his body, he didn’t miss the way that Kageyama’s voice broke at the end of his sentence.

“They aren’t bruises,” Hinata said quietly, “Stop saying they are.”

“They might as well be. If I had known that they looked _this_ bad…” Kageyama’s sentence died out. “This is exactly why I wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you said you’re here because you think I’m too quiet now.”

“Yeah. I’m worried that it’s not my fault anymore.”

Just as Kageyama said this, Hinata had finished counting to nineteen, from the marks he could see in his reflection.

Internally, Hinata fully processed his words, wondering how they should make him feel. After a few seconds, Hinata decided, reaching up to push Kageyama’s hands off his shoulders. Kageyama let him, his hands dropping to hang at his sides.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the only person who’s allowed to hurt me?” Hinata asked quietly. He turned his back towards the reflection, looking up at him. “That’s selfish. Even for you, Kageyama.”

“No,” Kageyama said through grit teeth, “I _know_ that’s how it sounds, but it isn’t about me anymore, it’s about _you_ —it’s just that, in the library yesterday, when Atsumu was there, you got _so quiet_ —"

“I hate to break it to you, but Atsumu _isn’t_ hurting me,” Hinata said lowly, “And I’m sick of everyone telling me he is.”

Kageyama ran both hands through his hair, scrunching his eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them again.

“… You _want_ those?” he asked weakly, “You want these… These marks?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Hinata replied.

Another spell of silence. Kageyama’s face had pulled into another confused, frustrated expression. And honestly, Hinata was sick of seeing it.

When Kageyama opened his mouth to speak again, Hinata decided that he was done.

“… Of course—”

“Kageyama, just stop—”

“Hinata, of _course_ it matters what you—”

“Don’t act like you care about what I want, Kageyama,” Hinata said coldly, “Just get out, okay? Leave me alone."

“Hinata—”

“You walked out on me just fine three weeks ago all by yourself. You won’t do it when I actually want you to?” Hinata snapped.

Hinata wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure Kageyama flinched at this.

Either way, Kageyama just hung his head, his shoulders falling with a heavy sigh as he turned, pulling the door open and leaving without another word.

For a couple minutes, Hinata just watched the door, his gaze darting from the mirror to the doorknob. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to change—as if the spots of purple would vanish from his reflection, as if the doorknob would twist open again.

_Nothing’s ever going to change._

When Hinata was collapsed into the corner of his twin bed five minutes later, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, he could only think of those words. _Nothing’s going to change._

As he leaned his forehead against his knees, hot tears streaking from his cheeks now slipping down the top of his thighs, Hinata just couldn’t figure out what to do anymore, because nothing made _sense_ anymore—he got what he wanted, didn’t he? Kageyama got hurt and he clearly didn’t like Hinata’s marks, so why wasn’t Hinata feeling better?

_They were supposed to make me feel better._

Or at least, the hickies were supposed to distract Hinata. Which was why Hinata thought he wanted them. But all they did was make Hinata focus on all the hurt, and much more intensely.

_Why don’t I feel better?_

Clearly, Hinata had no idea what it was he actually wanted. He was lost, perpetually lost in a cloud of his own misery with nowhere to go from here. The person that had once rooted him to the ground kept walking out the door, and Hinata had no idea how to bring himself back down to the earth again.

With shaking hands, Hinata slowly tugged his covers over himself, sinking down onto his side. Kenma’s tournament should be ending soon, and it’d be best if Hinata just pretended he was taking a nap to avoid having to talk to him.

 _Can’t it just stop?_ Hinata thought as he tucked his knees against his chest, hiccupping from the sheer force of his sobs. _If nothing’s going to change, can’t it at least stop?_

At the end of it all, Hinata knew that nothing could ever change what happened, or the choices he made that got him here. It’d taken him too long to fully accept that, but he’d gotten there eventually. But apparently, not even taking responsibility created a big enough change to make him stop feeling the way he always did.

All Hinata wanted was to feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: just starting to read the manga
> 
> also me: sobbing while typing, physically restraining myself from incorporating atsumu’s yeehaw dialect into his dirty talk
> 
> “yer so good for me” please kill me now


End file.
